


Til' the Light Comes Pouring Through

by merae2888



Series: Better Together [7]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Love Confessions, Oral Sex, Post-Season/Series 03, Snowed In, a little bit kinky, hella dirty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 06:41:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8738710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merae2888/pseuds/merae2888
Summary: “You’re going to get yourself killed one of these nights and it will destroy me. Is that what you want, to hurt me as badly as I hurt you?” Clarke doesn’t stop yelling even as he scoops a tiny snow flurry off her cheek. Only when he lifts his finger between them to examine it closer does she halt her tirade. “What is that?”
Bellamy blows it off. “Snow,” he says wonderingly. “I think its snow.” 
OR
The typical 'we're snowed in and things get dirty' trope.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is so flithy, I'm almost embarrassed. 
> 
> Almost.

“We’re definitely lost,” Clarke says primly from about ten feet behind him.

 

Bellamy shakes out the map and keeps trudging forward. They’d wandered off their trail when he’d noticed a set of tracks veering into the forest, insisting they investigate in case it was Octavia.

 

There was no sign of anyone anywhere when the trail eventually died and now they’re lost.

 

Which Clarke keeps mentioning.

 

“Would you like to navigate?” he asks, every word a bite.

 

Clarke sighs and he knows that noise too well, knows nothing that’s good for him ever follows it. “I just don’t know what you were hoping to find.”

 

“My sister,” Bellamy says flatly. “Remember her?”

 

Clarke scoffs and it’s so flippant, almost cruel, that Bellamy stops in his tracks and whirls around to face her. “You got something to say?”

 

Her eyes flit to the scar on his face, the one that won’t fade. “You’re trying so hard to find her, sneaking away every night…did you ever think that maybe it would be better if you didn’t?”

 

They’ve been on the move since the City of Light was shut down, since they left Polis, setting up makeshift camps when they stop for the nights and Bellamy always creeps out to check the new area, searching for O, desperate for any hint that she might still belong to this world, might still be within his reach. He always makes sure to get back before sunrise.

 

He didn’t think anyone had noticed.

 

Clearing his throat, he says, “When you love someone, you don’t ask questions like that.”

 

“That’s pretty reckless,” Clarke huffs, crossing her arms and jutting her chin out.

He thinks of her pale, terrified face and the stab wound in his leg. “So what?” he shrugs, an effort. He doesn’t do casual well. “It’s my life. I can do what I want with it.”

 

“You don’t care about what might happen to you on one of your solitary scouting trips? What if a wild animal attacked you and no one was there to cover you? What if you fall in a river and freeze to death? Do you care nothing about your own life?”

 

“No, I don’t,” he bellows. “If I can find my sister, than anything that happens to me will have been worth it.”

 

He’s panting, angrier than he’d realized, staring at Clarke as she stares at him, a heartbreaking combination of disappointment and fear on her face.

 

“Well, I do,” she whispers, the only noise in the world save for the wind. A step closer and they are inches apart. Her breath is coming out in little clouds, smelling like the mint leaf she’d chewed on during their hike. “I care about you and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

 

This, out of everything she’s said, pisses him off. “Really? You didn’t feel that way when you sent me into Mt. Weather.”

 

She inhales sharply and it sounds painful, like she can’t breathe. “Bellamy-“

 

“And the time I begged you to stay and you just walked away,” he says, sniffing in the cold air hard enough to hurt his chest. “Or what about when I went to Polis to save you and you still wouldn’t come home. Did you care about me then?”

 

She shook her head, a lone tear falling down her cheek. “I’m sorry. I’ve already told you how sorry I am for all of that,” she yells, her words losing a bit of their sincerity.

 

“But it still happened,” he says, sluggish. He’s tired. He’s tired all the time. “You didn’t seem to care all those times. What’s so different now?”

 

Her mouth twists into a scowl. “You really have to ask me that, after everything we’ve been through? Do you really not get it? I did all of those things and I hurt you but you were still always my best friend, my favorite person, you’re…”

 

He gets distracted watching her mouth move and color rise on her cheeks. It’s been too long since he’s seen her so riled up. It looks good on her, all that passionate anger.

 

A white fluff falls on her nose.

 

Somehow, Bellamy had spent his entire life of thinking of snow the way it was always shown in pictures, blanketing the world in sparkling white, holding onto footsteps and animal tracks, dusting the trees with soft powder.

 

He’d never given much thought to how it got to Earth in the first place.

 

Which is why it takes him a second, while he’s letting Clarke rant at him, to realize what the bright, white drops falling on her cheeks and in her hair actually are.

 

“You’re going to get yourself killed one of these nights and it will destroy me. Is that what you want, to hurt me as badly as I hurt you?” She doesn’t stop yelling even as he scoops a tiny snow flurry off her cheek. Only when he lifts his finger between them to examine it closer does she halt her tirade. “What is that?”

 

He blows it off. “Snow,” he says wonderingly. “I think its snow.”

 

Clarke laughs, bright and startled, and tilts her head back, closing her eyes and sticking out her tongue to catch the drifting flurries. More is falling now, landing softly on their hair and outstretched arms. A few flakes get caught in Clarke’s eyelashes and Bellamy can’t stop himself from brushing them away. She looks at him and he can’t remember what they were fighting about. He cups her warm cheek and she tilts her face into his hand and they are so, so close.

 

“We should find cover,” he says, his voice hitching, “before it gets worse.”

 

A little smile graces her mouth. “Lead the way.”

 

He takes them back to the small shack they’d seen on their detour. It’s nestled in a little glen, situated between the tall winter-barren tress. There’s already a light layer of snow on the roof and the surrounding land. They both breathe a sigh of relief when they find it. The sky shrouded in gray and sunlight’s fading and soon, they wouldn’t have been able to find their way through the forest.

 

Bellamy has to slam his shoulder against the door several times before it finally swings open. There’s only one room, the floor is made of cold, unforgiving stone and a lone window, high up in the wall. It’s only slightly any warmer than outside but at the least they’re sheltered from the snow.

 

Quickly, he gathers some fallen tree limbs and hands them to Clarke before he ducks inside and wedges the door shut. Clarke kneels in front of the fireplace, arranging the logs and sticks into a formation she hopes will burn through the night. It’s so cold that her hands shake when she uses one of her few, precious matches to light a bit of paper from her journal and bring the kindling ablaze.

 

There’s a metal tub in one corner, a bed in the other. The mattress is thin and there’s only one blanket. Bellamy shakes it out then drags the entire bed in front of the fire.

 

Clarke rises from her spot on the ground, now that the fire is burning well on its own. She pushes at the mattress and wrinkles her nose. “Luxury.”

 

Bellamy sits on the edge, bouncing once, twice. “It’s not so bad. Better than a cot.”

 

She sits beside him and starts getting undressed, removing her jacket, scarf and mittens. The shack suddenly seems much smaller as she removes her boots and socks, stretching out her feet toward the flames. She curls her toes in and out, getting warm.

 

“You’re not gonna sleep in that, are you?” she asks, indicating his heavy jacket and combat boots.

 

“I can sleep on the floor,” he offers automatically.

 

“No, no way.”

 

“Clarke-“

 

“Bellamy, just…no.”

 

He looks at the bed, the very small bed. “You sure?”

 

She rolls her eyes and nudges her shoulder into his. “Yes, I’m sure.”

 

He takes his jacket and his boots and socks off and then goes to the other side of the bed so they can turn their backs to each other and change into the comfortable sleep clothes they carry in their packs. When he’s finished, Bellamy peeks over his shoulder to see if she’s done, just in time to watch her reach under the back of her shirt and unhook her bra.

 

His mouth falls open as she pulls her arm into her shirt, slipping her bra strap off one shoulder and then she does the same with the other arm. She tugs it free and shoves it into her pack, turning around to find him staring, his mouth still hanging agape.

 

She throws her head back, laughing like a little kid and the sound, lively and loose, bounces off the walls, warming him more than the fire. “It’s just a bra, Bellamy.”

 

“Did you mean it?” he asks softly, quickly, before he loses the nerve.

 

“What?”

 

“Earlier, when we were fighting, you said I was your best friend. Did you mean it?”

 

“Yea,” she shrugs, like it’s not a big deal, like it’s not everything. “You really didn’t know?”

 

He shrugs back. “I had a feeling.” A hope, a wish, a dream. “You’re mine,” he tells her.

 

After a second, she nods, smiling slightly as her eyes go soft. “I had a feeling.”

 

They watch each other for a moment then Bellamy walks around the bed, stopping right in front of her. He combs his fingers through her hair. It’s slightly damp and curling where the snow melted and he twists a strand around his finger. She’s bathed in firelight, her eyes sparkling with gold when the flames flicker. He takes one step closer and their toes touch, so suddenly, strongly intimate that Bellamy gasps. She wiggles her toes against his when he looks down. “Just my toes, Bellamy,” she whispers with a hint of a laugh.

 

He leans forward, presses their foreheads together. “They’re so fucking cute.”

 

When he lifts his head, they’re so near, his nose brushes hers. He swallows and she shakes her head a little. “Just my nose.” He leans back so he can touch her cheek, drag his fingers over her lips. “Just my mouth,” she whispers, breath warm and tingling.

 

He’s breathing deeply as she cups his elbows, drawing his arms around her waist. “It’s just me.”

 

Bellamy squeezes her closer and she curls her arms over his shoulders, looping them behind his neck. “Just you,” he breathes, reverently, just before he drops his mouth over hers.

 

The first time sunlight touched his face, Bellamy was sure nothing would ever match the feeling, the complete sense of freedom and elation.

 

This kiss blows that moment away.

 

She opens her mouth to him and he deepens the kiss, bringing his hand to her neck, swiping his thumb over her cheek. Her tongue flutters over his and he groans into her mouth. He drags his hand down her neck, across her collarbone, the other dipping under her shirt and rubbing up the curve of her spine. The collar of her shirt is loose enough for him to pull it down over her chest. He palms her breast and her skin tightens under his touch. When he flicks her nipple, she bites down on his bottom lip, gasping into his mouth.

 

He can’t hold still, every part of him humming with frantic energy. He just wants to feel more of her and kiss her everywhere, lick her until she can’t speak. Breaking their kiss makes her whine, a desperate noise that he already wants to hear again. He slides his mouth down her neck, tonguing at her skin until it’s slick. She rakes her fingers through his hair when he sucks at the juncture of her neck and shoulder and she dips a little, her knees almost giving out.

 

“Bellamy,” she says in a breathless moan that goes straight to his dick. Arching her back lifts her perfect tits right into his face and Bellamy pushes them together, sliding his mouth and tongue over the soft skin, sucking sweetly then rougher on one nipple then the other, biting and sucking until she’s panting so hard he’s worried she might choke.

 

He pulls away, staring hungrily at what he’s done to her, the red marks he’s left behind, her skin wet and shiny from his mouth. When Clarke guides his face up, her eyes are heavy-lidded. She watches him as she flicks her tongue into his open mouth, his eyes widening into two black, liquid pools.

 

“How long have you wanted to do that?” she asks in playful tone he’s never heard from her before. Bellamy rubs his knuckles between her breasts, up and down, an erotic caress.

 

“Awhile,” he admits, voice low and rough.

 

With a wicked smile on her lips, she leans in close while he continues to stroke her skin, his other hand coming to rest low on her hip. She kisses his neck up to his ear and then whispers, “You wanna fuck them?”

 

“Uhhh,” he groans, fingers digging into her ass. “Fuck yea, we are definitely doing that later but right now…” He grips her hair and tugs her away from her assault on his neck so he can smirk at her. “I gotta get you naked.”

 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

 

Clarke raises her arms so he can pull her shirt up and off. The golden waves of her hair fall over her shoulders once free from her shirt and he brushes them back so her shoulders are bare. He unties the drawstring of her pants, watching greedily as they fall down her hips, revealing her black panties. He rubs his hands over her shoulders and around her breasts, barely touching the sensitive tips with his thumbs before dragging his fingers across her ribs. Firelight is exquisite on her pale skin.

 

Skimming his nose and lips down her stomach, he drops to his knees. There are rough calluses on his hands that scrape her thighs pleasantly when he slides them under her panties, squeezing her ass as he buries his face against her. He inhales deeply, mouthing at the wet fabric until she whimpers. Her hands are in his hair, her nails scraping against his scalp. He turns his head toward her inner thigh, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. Clarke is trembling above him, rocking her hips forward. He smacks her lightly on the ass. “Greedy.”

 

“Tease,” she shoots back.

 

He leans his chin into her clit, giving her the barest hint of pressure where she needs it most, and looks up at her. She’s biting her lip, watching him. “Patience, baby. I’ve wanted this for a long damn time.” He digs his chin into her, kisses low on her stomach. “I won’t rush it but I swear, I’m gonna take such good care of you,” he promises, intense and hot.

 

She blinks down at him and runs her fingers through his hair. “I’ve wanted you, too.”

 

Grinning, he hooks his fingers under the sides of her underwear and pulls them down her leanly muscled legs while she balances herself on his shoulders to shake them off. He kisses a path from her knee to the apex of her thigh, nuzzling at her, massaging her calves lightly.

 

When he finally, _finally,_ puts his mouth on her, Clarke nearly collapses she’s so worked up. Bellamy braces a hand behind himself so he can lick at her better when she leans forward. Another pass of his tongue and she’s trembling, loosing her balance. Bellamy grasps her hips to steady her and stands up. “No, don’t stop,” she cries. He chuckles and quickly lies down on the bed.

 

“Come here, baby. Sit on my face.”

 

Clarke licks her lips, only hesitating for a heartbeat before grabbing the headboard and climbing on top of him, shimmying up, her cunt leaving a wet trail on his chest. She straddles his face and he grips her hips, guiding her to his eager mouth. His nose bumps her clit as he strokes his tongue into her and she delves her fingers back into his hair, gasps, rolls her hips and he shakes his head, flattening his tongue against her while he massages her clit in hard, slow circles with his thumb.

 

 

Bellamy sucks at her, then licks, sucks again, increasing the pressure of his mouth and tongue when Clarke gets whiny, begging him for more. Her legs are clamped on either side of his head but he can still hear her pleading whimpers. “Fuck, Bellamy, please, please, I need…fuck, that’s good…harder.“

 

His lips close around her swollen clit, then his teeth, just for a second. He smacks her on the ass again and she jolts, pushing her cunt down into his face, which sets her tits bouncing. He reaches for her heavy breasts, rolling her nipple between his fingers in rhythm with the stroke of his tongue and she shudders above him. She tastes like the earth, salty and warm, natural. Her thighs are soft and fleshy where they tremble against his cheeks. He’s drowning in her and he’d be happy to die like this.

 

When she’s close, he can tell by the way her fingers clench in his hair and she gets really still, letting him press his tongue inside her just right, hot and wet and dirty while he rubs at her clit with his thumb. He watches her head fall back as her orgasm breaks through her. The tips of her hair brush over his groin as she bends back, breathless and shivering, and he plants a hand at the base of her spine to hold her up. Her hips starts rocking again, chasing her pleasure and he gentles his tongue, licking sweetly at her through the height of it until it’s too much and she lifts off.

 

She flops onto her back beside him, breathing hard, her boneless body sinking into the mattress. Bellamy rubs his hand over her stomach while she catches her breath.

 

“Finally,” she huffs, “we found a good use for your mouth.”

 

He chuckles before leaning over and letting her kiss her cum off his lips. “The first of many.”

 

She hums happily, running a hand down his chest and underneath his shirt, scratching lightly at his abs. “Why are you still dressed?”

 

“I got distracted.” He sits up and removes his shirt. Immediately, Clarke touches his bare skin, tapping the pads of her fingers down his spine. He lies down and her fingers dance across his stomach while he gets his pants off. His cock is hard and straining against his boxer briefs and Clarke rubs him through the fabric before dipping her hand inside. He’s velvet smooth and hard as granite, hot in her palm.

 

“More?” Bellamy asks, pushing himself harder into her hand. She encircles him, pumping lazily.

 

“Of course.” She rolls to her side and slides in close, running her nose along his jaw, biting at his earlobe and dragging her thumb across his cockhead at the same time. “I want you to fuck me,” she says, her voice shot through with lust. She meets his eyes, her intense stare promising dirty things. “Fuck me hard.”

 

He kisses her, he has too, and it’s filthy: a wet slide of tongues, the taste of her lingering between them, panting into each other’s mouths as he rolls on top of her. He grinds into her and she whimpers, still sensitive from her recent orgasm.

 

She’s gorgeous like this, wanting him, hungry for his cock but what she said earlier floats to the front of his sex-addled brain. “Your offer still good?” he asks, rolling his hips against her to get his point across.

 

Without missing a trick, Clarke winks and cups her breasts, pushing them together. “Babe, you can fuck me anywhere.”

 

Bellamy makes a strangled noise. Clarke starts pumping him harder, faster, spreading his precum down his shaft until he crawls over her, straddling her ribs while bracing himself on the mattress so he doesn’t crush her.

 

This is something he’s never done before and judging from Clarke’s excited, somewhat anxious expression, she hasn’t either. Experiencing this for the first time together make his stomach flip.

 

Bellamy slides his cock between her breasts, soft warmth enveloping him as she presses them closer together. She’s a bit sweaty, making his thrusts easy and fluid as she holds her breasts close together. Her nipples are almost touching and Bellamy groans, the visual almost better than the glide of his dick on her skin. He thrusts forward, like he would if he was inside of her and she opens her mouth, laying her tongue flat so the head of his cock rubs over it.

 

“Fuck, Clarke, look at you.” He swipes his thumb along her bottom lip and she suckles at it. He speeds his thrusts, her body shifting up with his as he moves. “You like my cock, huh?”

 

She hums her agreement, fluttering her tongue at his frenulum when he’s in her mouth again. “I want you.”

 

Clarke grips his ass, letting her tits fall away and pulling him forward so his cock slides into her mouth and she can suck slow and hot at the head, making him moan.

 

She pops her mouth off him and gives one long lick from base to tip. “I want you, Bellamy. Now.”

 

No one ever said he was slow.

 

He settles between her hips and braces himself above her and she grips onto his arms. His dick brushes against the intense heat of her and he pauses, gazing at her face as she stares at him with something he wants to call love.

 

“Bellamy,” she whispers, touching his cheek with trembling fingers. She draws him to her, kissing him deep and slow, finding his hand and curling their fingers together.

 

He pulls back when he tastes her tears. “You okay?”

 

She nods, tracing the apple of his cheek with her fingertip. “You’re more than my best friend,” she tells him. “You’re just…everything to me, Bellamy. This,” she squeezes his hand, “Us…” She kisses him again, trying to convey what she can’t find the words to say. There isn’t a word in existence that could encompass what he means to her.

 

“Clarke, I know-“

 

“Wait, let me say this.” So he waits patiently as she’s gathering herself and falling more in love with him as he gazes at her with a small, concerned frown.

 

Finally, with tears choking the back of her throat, she continues, “I will never leave, I will never walk away from you, I will never, ever leave you alone again. I swear it. I’m in this, I want this, you and me forever. I love you. You’re the love of my life-“

 

Anything else she might’ve said gets lost in his kiss. It’s so tender, so heart-achingly sweet; her heart flutters in her chest. Bellamy melts into her and she feels safe and grounded, like nothing can hurt her. Elation she’s never known sweeps over her and she wraps her arms around him, feeling him shudder as she holds him close.

 

“I love you, too, Clarke,” he rumbles, and who knew her name could sound like a song. “I always will.” He kisses her again, all sloppy because they’re both grinning like idiots.

 

Clarke finds his cock between their bodies and guides him to her. She’s desperate for him now, all this intense emotion from the day ready to burst and overwhelm her.

 

“I love you,” Clarke says again as he finally slides inside her. He sighs, happiness pulsing bright, filling all the dark corners that had grown inside him. He touches his forehead to hers, whispers the words back, watching that same happiness spread through her eyes as he pushes in to the hilt and holds still to let her adjust. He kisses her and keeps kissing her, warm and sweet until she nods a little and lifts her legs to wrap around his waist. He pulls out and grinds back in, fucking her slow, savoring the hot, tight embrace of her cunt. The happiness is everywhere, pouring out of him, swallowing any thoughts from his mind, leaving him in a white, sparkly space where nothing can harm him.

 

The heels of her feet dig into the backs of his thighs, urging him on and he obliges, fucking into her harder, faster. Their skin slaps together, drowning out the sound of the fire as they move together. Clarke rolls her hips, pulling him in as deep as possible.

 

Bellamy gets to his knees, lifts her ass, and drags her onto his lap, changing the angle so she moans with it. Like this, he can grind up against the front wall of her cunt, intimate and hot, slow and purposeful. Clarke gasps when he grips her hips and presses hard and fast circles into her clit, bringing her to the edges of the world.

 

She lifts up on her hands; she wants to be kissing him when she flies apart. Bellamy cups her neck, his rhythm faltering slightly when she fits her mouth over his. He whispers her name when it finally overtakes her, kisses her neck as she cranes back, letting her body go with it, shuddering before collapsing limply down to the bed.

 

Bellamy thrusts only three more times before following her, pressing in deep, burying his head in her chest when he comes hard. It sinks down to his bones and liquefies him until he’s good for nothing but falling on top of her. Clarke cards her fingers through his hair as it wrecks him. He’s still moving shallowly into her spent body while she croons at him, kissing his jaw, mouthing at his neck.

 

When he’s finally still, Clarke reaches down for a cloth. Bellamy lifts off her so she can clean them up then immediately falls back down, manhandling her to lie on her side so he can spoon himself around her.

 

The fire’s dying down, letting the cool air of their hideaway hit them full force. Clarke shudders a little and Bellamy wraps her in his arms, breathes hot air onto her neck because he can’t leave this bed yet, can’t break the closeness.

 

When it’s too cold to bear, the moonlight shining through the tiny window casting them in blue shadows, Clarke crawls away to stoke the fire back to life. Once it’s roaring again, she folds herself into his arms, settles herself in the space that already feels made for her, where she can count his heartbeats thumping against her spine.

 

“People leave, Clarke. Shit happens,” he whispers. “The point is that you came back.”

 

Clarke smiles and finds his hand, braiding their fingers together. “I came home.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> All comments and kudos are deeply appreciated!


End file.
